


Smelly Breakdown

by TaillessGiraffe



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: CHEEEEEEEESE, Crack, Humor, friendship fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-01
Updated: 2014-12-01
Packaged: 2018-02-27 15:41:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2698286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaillessGiraffe/pseuds/TaillessGiraffe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which the DB temporarily loses it and their loyal follower tries to bring them back from Sheogorath's grasp. Done purely for fun, for the silly, and for the cheese.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smelly Breakdown

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the skyrimkinkmeme.
> 
> Prompt:
> 
> 'When I first started playing Skyrim, I had this complete obsession with collecting cheese wheels. I'd even go out of my way to have my Dragonborn steal them from people's houses. It got so out of hand that when my friend logged onto my Skyrim account while hanging out, he got onto my character (who was over-encumbered) and asked, "Why do you have 700 pounds of cheese??"
> 
> I'd really love a fill, any kind of fill, be it crack, smut, what have you, where the Dragonborn's follower ends up having to carry around all the cheese wheels s/he has collected during their time in Skyrim. I can imagine a very shocked, possibly annoyed follower.
> 
> Any follower, any race/gender of Dragonborn. As long as there is an abundance of cheese, I am happy.
> 
> (Although extra props if the follower is Marcurio. So much sass, so much cheese, so little time.)'

When one spends most of their time travelling from hold to hold, dusk rarely catching them in proximity to an inn and their menu normally consisting of the wild life they had at reach, it was of course not just normal but sensible to carry as much food and drink as possible, for it wasn’t always a possibility to hunt dinner the moment it was needed, weather and nature being such unpredictable forces, and one couldn’t afford the weakness that came with the craving when bandits and beasts had such a bothersome tendency to jump at them when they were least expected.   
  
That’s what Inigo would repeat to himself, on the verge of turning it into a mantra, whenever he and his dear friend were back on the road, the bags on their backs bending them forward with the weight of what could be equivalent to one dozen dwarven armors.   
  
Yes, that’s what his friend obviously had in mind, the khajiit would once again think to himself. They were simply providing an alternative, a back-up meal in case their arrows missed the target in the middle of the next storm. One could never be too cautious. Yes, clearly, one could never be too sure, and his friend was smart. And prudent. And…  
  
And okay, so maybe Mr. Dragonfly was right, and this was getting a little out of hand. He had just heard a loud cracking noise behind him and he would bet four of his whiskers and an ear that his tortured spine had been the source.  
  
One cheese wheel, he could understand. Two, three, even four he could take. Maybe even ten, as long as they all fit in the same sack! He had a very open mind when it came to strange habits or manias, he had many himself, after all. For example, if it wasn’t for their inconveniently big size and for the fact that he and his friend would probably end up poisoned and dead in some abandoned barrow, oblivious to the silently-injected-through-the-bags- fabric venom until it was too late to drink a potion- he would certainly carry an entire sack of spiders everywhere! Take one out to smash it dead whenever he felt like it!   
  
But that was the thing, he didn’t do it because it wouldn’t be reasonable, and as much as he joked about being a little crazy, it hadn’t gotten  **that** bad, not yet, anyway.  
  
So why, exactly, did his friend find it necessary that they carry up to 100 cheese wheels, **each** , no matter their destination? Just what kind of thought process could lead to the conclusion that they MUST have every cheese wheel in Tamriel safely stored in their travelling bags? And not the ones with the horses, no, the ones on THEIR backs. And if the weight wasn’t enough, there was the  _smell_ \- Divines, that damn smell.  
  
In short, Inigo was starting to worry for his friend’s sanity. 

He stopped dead in his tracks, letting the bag fall to the ground with a grunt, immediately using his knees for support as he rubbed his lower back with a hiss. The  _thud_  caught his friend’s attention, who was until now trotting a few feet ahead of him, making them turn around -veeery slowly and with very heavy and wide steps while in their crouched position- to look at the blue khajiit from behind that expressionless mask they had grown so attached to.   
  
‘You okay? Why have you stopped?’ they asked, their voice strained and coming in-between gasps because of the weight from all the cheese they too were carrying on their back.   
  
Inigo lifted his gaze, staring at his companion in disbelief.   
  
‘My friend…’ he groaned, pulling a face as he stretched, forcing his back to straighten, ‘ _Uuunrgh_ …! I believe I, should be the one asking if you, are  _owh_ -kay…!’  
  
‘Huh?’ they huffed, amusedly, ‘What do you mean,  _okay_? I’m fine!’ they shrugged their shoulders, which were immediately yanked back down by the  _two, giant, sacks, of cheese wheels_ , that they insisted on dragging with them. However, they didn’t seem to mind it. Then again, it was hard to tell without seeing their face.  
  
‘Uh… yes, well.’ Inigo trailed off, scared of pulling a delicate string, but knowing it was either have his friend snap from their temporal psychosis and deal with the consequences or spend the rest of his life bed-ridden and with a phobia towards any kind of dairy product. ‘No offense, friend, but…  _why?_ ’ he pointed with an open arm at the bag of cheese lying on the ground beside him, one of the wheels poking out.  
  
His friend averted their eyes from him for a second, looking in the general direction where the bag was, and soon turning back to the khajiit, lightly shaking their head. ‘Why what?’  
  
Inigo’s eyes widened, his hand still pointing to the bag. He spoke slowly, marking every syllable. ‘Why all the cheese?’  
  
There was a little pause before the Dragonborn replied, seemingly lost still in the meaning of his question. ‘What do you mean? It’s… it’s cheese, it’s food. We need to eat at some point…!’  
  
Inigo nodded their every word, patting the air. ‘Yes, yes, of course! We need food, and I know how much you like cheese! That is good, but still- do we really need  **ALL**  this cheese?’ he insisted, openly gesturing now not only at his bag but at the ones on his friend’s back and hands, hoping they’d understand the problem.   
  
Gods, he counted at least 300 wheels in total.

After another look around, they finally spoke. ‘Oh, come on. It- it’s not that many.’ they laughed it off with a tilt of their head, and Inigo understood he would have to go about this the same way he had to go about his skooma addiction. Step by step and with a lot of patience.

‘Look, friend, all I’m saying is, maybe we’re overloading on cheese. Don’t you think?’ he smiled, approaching the matter with as much delicacy as he could, noticing his friend’s posture growing more rigid by the second. ‘I mean, maybe- just maybe, we could, I don’t know, carry 10 wheels each instead? Leave the rest at home? How does that sound?’

The Dragonborn’s hands clenched around the sacks’ fabric, almost in a protective manner. ‘Hmmno, no. Nooo, no, I- I think I’d rather have it with me.’ they nodded, holding the sacks a little closer. 

‘But, friend…’ this wasn’t going to be easy, ‘… there is at least, around- ah, I-I can’t even count how much weight in cheese we are carrying right now…!’ he kept trying to reason, remembering all too well how hard it was to let go of the denial, but they kept shaking their head.

‘No, really- hey, if you’re tired, I can take it, I don’t mind! I’ll hang it on front. You can just take the rest of my stuff, and I’ll carry the cheese. C’mon, hand it over.’ they let out a small grunt as they lifted up the sacks, clumsily making their way to Inigo’s bag of cheese, their walk exactly like a Falmer’s with a bad case of rockjoint. ‘Just, help  _mmmeputthestrapsaroundmyarms…!_ ’ they gagged out, their mask practically facing the ground, and Inigo jumped in their way, no longer able to watch his good friend going through that arduous struggle. 

‘No, no, this isn’t about the weight, friend!’

‘What- wh- I- don’t be ridiculous, Inigo-  _gimme the bag!_ ’ they stammered, letting one of the sacks fall to the ground to reach out, unable to see where since the wheels on their back kept the upper side of their body parallel to the road. Inigo took the chance to kick it away from their hand, taking a few steps back afterwards. 

‘Please, friend, just- listen to me for a moment…!’

‘What in Oblivion are you…?’ they started saying, but an ugly and loud coughing fit cut them short, surely caused by the enormous effort, nearly making them lose their balance and land on their face.

‘Listen, all you have to do is accept you have a problem!’ Inigo continued, ignoring Mr. Dragonfly’s screams, asking him to just throw all the cheese over a cliff. ‘Once you do that, I promise, I will help you get rid of, aaaall this cheese!’ he opened his arms, bending a bit forward in an attempt to come to his friend’s same level. 

‘I-I don’t have  _a problem…!_ ’ they mockingly coughed out, irritated, their voice hoarse. 

‘Yes, yes, you do. You broke into houses, back in Riften, just to steal the cheese wheels!’ he responded, ‘You didn’t even touch a single gold coin, my friend, you just went for the cheese and left!’

‘THAT’S BECAUSE- because…! Uh- it’d otherwise rot away!’

‘What?’

‘You heard me!’ they cried, dramatically pointing a finger some degrees away from where Inigo was actually standing, still incapable to see nothing above their own feet. ‘This people have all that food just, collecting dust and mold in their basements…!’  
  
Inigo shook his head, his ears laying back. ‘T-that, that is where people store their food, friend! For winter, and…!’  
  
‘I need it more than them!’ they yelled, their voice cracking and bringing yet even a bigger hint of insanity to their rambles, ‘I am saving the entirety of their goddamned world, and the  _only_  thing I ask in return-‘ they stopped to unceremoniously and noisily clear their throat, their hacks rivaling that of Brenuin’s and making Inigo and his sensitive ears cringe with every sound, ‘ _Hhhhhaaaargh_ \- t-the only thing I ask from them is to have some sodding cheese in return for my deeds!’  
  
‘Allright, calm down, please- you are making no sense, and I believe, deep inside, you too know you are making none, at all.’  
  
The Dragonborn made a sound as to reply back, but another coughing fit interrupted them. Inigo took a faltering step towards them, lowering his voice. ‘It’s okay. It’s fine, I understand you’ve been under a lot of pressure, yeah? You just need to… to let me help you. Okay?’  
  
They didn’t respond, now on all fours, their knees bent and their hands keeping the weight of the cheese from sending them into a forward roll down the inclined path. Their loyal companion could hear their ragged breathing, but see nothing under the mask’s hood. Inigo took another small approach, careful not to alarm them. ‘You need to talk with me, to let it out. O-Okay? Are you listening?’  
  
Silence.  
  
‘… friend?’  
  
‘ _AAAAARGH!_ ’   
  
The Dragonborn suddenly charged at the blue khajiit, head first and arms bent at each of their sides, and Inigo jumped out of the way just in time, with a loud gasp, stumbling to keep his balance. ‘W-What are you doing?!’  
  
His best friend turned around, huffing like a mad cow, the bag on their back swaying with every step. ‘You are  _NOT_  taking away the cheese!’ they panted.  
  
‘What? No- no, stop!’ he jumped to the side again, initial shock fading and giving way to his natural dexterity, when his friend once more tried to smash their head against the plates of his ebony armor. He raised his hands, praying to any god that would listen to give him patience. ‘Friend, PLEASE, this is crazy! I just want to help you!’  
  
‘I don’t need your help, I DON’T NEED ANYONE’S HELP! ALL I NEED IS, MY-‘ they charged back at the khajiit as they roared the strangest yet most terrifying war cry Inigo would ever hear in a lifetime, ‘- _CHEEEEEESE!_ ’

Unable to do nothing but keep evading their attacks until they grew tired, Inigo stepped once again to the side, letting them run past with a sigh.   
  
But then his friend picked up speed, instead of stopping, the weight pulling them down the inclined road. And Inigo saw them flail their arms like a bird, a bird with a giant, brown hump, in a fruitless try to stop the inevitable, and then trip over the forgotten bag of cheese he had dropped a few minutes ago, their head and chest colliding first against the disarranged stones that formed the path, their butt up in the air and their legs still half-way tangled with the object cause of their accident.  
  
The blue khajiit snapped out of his surprise and rushed to their side, asking out loud if they were allright and trying to hold back his laughter. But before he had taken two steps, something  _amazing_  happened.  
  
There was a snapping sound, and the lid from the bag -the bag on his friend’s back, the bag that until now had contained gods knew how many wheels of cheese- finally gave way and ripped open, allowing the wheels to fall out one by one in a constant stream of yellow and greenish yellow, rolling down the road at a speed rivaling that of the fastest rabbit, heading straight to the river below.   
  
‘Oh, no, MY  _CHEESE!_ ’ they cried, fumbling about to get up and tripping their way after the rolling food. ‘No no no no no no no…!’  
  
Inigo followed a few steps behind, still trying to process what was exactly happening, when the first wheel of cheese ran into the stones by the side of road, consequently flying up in the air, followed by all its round and crumbly siblings. One by one they hit the stones and reached the sky to fall with a loud splash in the rapids. Like salmon migrating from the ocean, swimming to the upper reaches of the river. Except, well, these were cheese wheels. And instead of the roaring from a bear trying to catch the flying fish, this scene was accompanied by the desperate cries from his at the time not totally sound of mind friend.   
  
The khajiit had to agree with Mr. Dragonfly, this could definitely make for a good song.   
  
The Dragonborn didn’t make it in time, the last wheel having just disappeared in the violent rapids when they finally reached the shore. They fell to their knees, their shoulders low- defeated, taking off their mask to watch the glimpses of yellow going away. Inigo walked to their side, no longer in a rush, and placed a hand on their shoulder, giving them a comforting squeeze.  
  
‘I’m sorry, my friend. But I believe this was for the best.’  
  
They took a deep, melancholic breath. ‘It’s all gone…’  
  
‘Hm. Well, not  _all…_ ’ Inigo commented, much to his dismay, but wanting to at least give them some consolation, turning around to look at the sacks and one bag they had left behind, his face crumpling up at the sight of the two bears ravaging its contents. ‘ _Eeeh._  Okay, maybe it is all gone.’  
  
The Dragonborn looked over their shoulder, seeing what he meant, and turned back to the river, letting out a faint whine.

‘I’m sorry.’ Inigo repeated, patting their shoulder.  
  
They shook their head. ‘It’s okay.’ Then a little pause, their eyes stuck on the river. ‘I tried to attack you. That wasn’t nice.’  
  
‘It’s okay, friend. You were… eh, upset.’ Yes, that was a good enough word for it. ‘I understand.’  
  
‘No, no, Inigo, that wasn’t nice at all. Gods…’ they placed a hand at their forehead, giving it a little massage. ‘Remember- remember last week, in Honeyside, before we left, when I woke up- the Wabbajack I have on the weapon rack above the bed…’  
  
‘Oh, yes. It fell, didn’t it?’  
  
‘Yeah. And hit my head.’  
  
‘Yeah, I remember now.’ he amusedly replied, nodding his head.  
  
‘Uh-huh. I’m thinking it maybe had some secondary effects, apart from the headache.’  
  
The khajiit chuckled.   
  
‘Really, I’m so, sooo sorry.’  
  
‘I said it’s okay, my friend. Don’t worry about it.’  
  
They sighed. ‘Really?’  
  
‘Really! You know I have had my low moments, as well. So no harm done, it’s absolutely okay.’  
  
‘Allright.’ they nodded, with a small smile. ‘Thanks. You’re a very good friend, and way too patient.’  
  
Inigo waved it off, shrugging his shoulders. ‘Like I said, I’m no one to judge. Now, friend, we should get out of here, before the bears notice us. Unless, you feel like releasing some steam with them?’  
  
‘Ugh, no, no…’ they got up with a grunt, dusting off the dirt on their knees. ‘I’d rather go the other way. Perhaps we’ll stop at Whiterun to have Danica check my head.’ They snorted, and looked at the khajiit, their smile widening. ‘Really, Inigo, I mean it. Thanks. I know I’m pretty hard to deal with, sometimes…’  
  
‘Please, my friend, I said it’s okay.’ He patted their arm once, with affection, and then laughed to himself, raising his brow. ‘Just don’t get all  _cheesy_  on me, now…!’ They gave him a look. ‘Sorry.’

 

* * *

 

 

‘Wilhelm?’  
  
The innkeeper lifted his gaze from the tankard he was wiping clean, so distracted until now with the task that he hadn’t noticed the bard standing on the other side of the bar.   
  
‘What is the matter, Lynly?’ he asked, ‘You look very pale.’  
  
The young girl fiddled nervously, apparently meditating her answer. ‘Uhm… it’s just that, I saw something really strange, just a moment ago, and…’  
  
‘Shor’s beard, Lynly. You didn’t go near the barrow again, did you?’ he inquired, a frown on his face. ‘I told you, you must stay away from it…!’  
  
‘No, no!’ she rushed to interrupt, ‘No, it isn’t about the barrow, Wilhelm, it’s just…’  
  
The innkeeper put the tankard down. ‘Yes?’  
  
‘Uhm… you’ll think I may have gone mad.’  
  
‘Please, Lynly, just tell me already. You’re starting to scare me.’  
  
‘Well…’ she threw a look over her shoulders at the door, ‘I was picking up some lavender, to cook some of that horker we just got, and I crossed the bridge, on the way back, and…’  
  
‘Yes…?’  
  
‘And…’ she slightly winced, ‘I-I know this sounds crazy, but I swear to Talos, there are around 50 wheels of cheese just, there, floating on the water.’  
  
‘…’  
  
‘…’  
  
‘… what.’ 


End file.
